


You live in my heart

by styleztomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: And A Marriage Proposal, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, Domesticity, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Schmoop, Wedding Talk, and a tomlinson, harry is louis' baby, iheartradio festival, seriously this is just 5000 words of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/styleztomlinson/pseuds/styleztomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as they’re done with their set, Louis only has one thing on his mind and that’s to get out of there as soon as possible.</p>
<p>or,</p>
<p>Harry is sick during their performance at the iHeartRadio festival. Afterwards, Louis takes cares of his baby, and dotes on his husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You live in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing the Louis and Harry footage from the [iheartRadio](http://fuckyeahhl.tumblr.com/post/98086024100/whos-gonna-do-it-after-youuuu) [festival](), this idea kind of grabbed a hold of me and wouldn't let go until it had made its way onto a Word document instead of occupying my mind. I've had writers' block for the longest time, so it felt like a huge relief to at least be able to write _something_. My two lovely betas, who are also two of my best friends, are [MC](http://hale-stilinski.tumblr.com) and [Jesse](http://lostallofmyinnocence.tumblr.com). The title is from All Comes Down by Kodaline.

As soon as they’re done with their set at the iHeartRadio festival, Louis only has one thing on his mind and that’s to get out of there as soon as possible. Harry has steadily looked paler and paler throughout the day, and he wants nothing more than to whisk him away from it all and take care of him in every way that he can.

“Hey,” Niall says when they’re backstage, grabbing his arm. “I can take care of Lottie, yeah? I’ll make sure she gets back to her room safe. That way you won’t have to worry about her.”

“In what world would I worry  _less_ when she’s with you of all people?” 

“You’re an absolute arse, Tommo. I just wanted to give you a chance to go take care of your boyfriend. Everyone and their mother can see that you’ve been itching to ever since we got here.”

He’s not exactly wrong. Louis hadn’t even wanted to wake Harry up this morning. He’d looked so young, his long hair splayed out across his forehead as he’d shifted closer to Louis when he’d first attempted to get out of bed. 

“What time ‘s it?” he’d croaked out, his voice sounding worse than it had the past few days. Louis physically winced with the ache he felt in his chest for him. If it were up to him, he’d put a singing (and talking, for that matter) restraint on him.

“Time to get up, love, I’m sorry,” Louis had replied, brushing a kiss across his fever-warm forehead. He’d helped him into the shower and ordered breakfast from room service while Harry got ready, offering him a glass of water and DayQuil. Harry had smiled appreciatively at him, croaking out a “Thanks, babe” and blown him a kiss in a useless attempt to not get Louis sick, too. Louis still pretended to catch it, enclosing his hand around it and holding to his heart, anyway.

Now, he smiles softly at Niall, giving him an appreciative nod. “Husband, technically.” 

Niall groans. “Don’t remind me. I’ve lived through enough proposals and ceremonies from the two of you to last me a lifetime.”

“Yet you cried at every single one.”

“And you didn’t?”  
  
“That’s neither here nor there, Nialler.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Go get your man before I change my mind.”

Louis smiles and gives him a one-armed, quick hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Or would do, for that matter,” he calls out as he turns around to the sound of Niall’s loud laugh and heads in the opposite direction to find Harry. 

He doesn’t have to look for long. Harry is standing in a fairly secluded spot (well. The most secluded spot you can be expected to find at a place like this), coughing into his arm. The pain is visible across his features, and Louis’ heart clenches as Harry makes a grimace and winces.

“Hi love,” he murmurs when he is close enough, low enough so that only Harry hears it.

“’m fine,” Harry says. His glassy eyes and clammy forehead say otherwise.

“’course you are, babe. We’re heading back now though, yeah? Niall offered to get Lottie back to her hotel room safe and sound, meaning I’ve got you all to meself.” 

“Lucky you,” Harry coughs.

“Lucky me indeed. C’mon, love,” he says, placing his hand on the small of Harry’s back and guiding him towards the exit. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”

- 

Louis gently ushers Harry inside once they get to their hotel room, closing the door behind them. Harry smiles softly before another coughing fit ripples through his body. Louis rushes to his side, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he puts his hair back behind his ear, letting his thumb brush a lingering touch against his neck in an attempt at comfort.

“Love,” Louis coos, wishing that he had gotten the worst part of this flu rather than Harry. “The lads and I could have sung your parts today, just like we offered yesterday, maybe that would have been better? Because right now you sound like you’re coughing up a lung and yet you still gave all of yourself and then some on stage tonight.”

“No, no, no” Harry says, standing up fully, turning around and grabbing onto Louis’ forearm with his free hand to steady himself. “I just need some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll be good as new.”

Louis’ expression softens, a fond smile slowly spreading across his features. “You’re perfect now.”

“Sap.”

“Says the man who has nine journals with texts about his husband and their relationship.”

“I never said that I wasn’t one too,” Harry smiles.

Louis laughs quietly, darting forward to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. He takes the Green Bay Packers hoodie out of his grasp and gently slides Harry’s shirt off his shoulders and down his arms before he removes it completely, tossing it at the nearby armchair.

“Lou, if you wanted to take my clothes off you could’ve just asked,” Harry teases.

Louis huffs. “ _You_ ,” he says, poking his index finger into his dimple, “are a menace. You won’t be getting any of this,” he says, gesturing towards his body while Harry eyes him up appreciatively, “tonight.” 

Harry pouts.

“Don’t give me that face, Styles.”

“It’s Tomlinson, actually," Harry says, smiling fondly at him before he continues. "A Tomlinson who-“

“Wants a baby, yeah I know,” Louis says, his exasperated tone being betrayed by the fondness in his eyes. “That makes two of us,” he continues, watching how Harry’s expression softens and his eyes light up. “You only not so subtly tell me every chance you get.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing dad, Lou, I know it.”

Louis looks up at him, his expression growing impossibly fonder. “Runner up, anyway. I’ll have the winner of that title right by my side. I’ll be so proud to call you our children’s father.” 

Harry pouts once more, his hands reaching for purchase on Louis’ waist. “Stop sweet talking me when there’s no funny business tonight.”

Louis laughs, loud and bright in the otherwise quiet hotel room. “Funny business? Who  _are_ you?” 

Harry beams. “Harry Tomlinson,” he says, extending his hand. “Pleasure.”

Louis all but refrains from (fondly) facepalming. “I’m not Rachel McAdams, but thanks.” 

“Oops.” Harry is still beaming. 

“Hi,” Louis murmurs, his voice soft and fond. “You idiot,” he tacks on at the end. 

He forgets all about getting Harry into bed for a moment and just wraps him up in his arms, holding him as close as possible and tangling his fingers in his long hair before he buries his nose in his neck, his other arm firm around his waist. Harry sighs happily before wrapping his own arms around him. Louis lets out a content sound, the tip of his nose dragging across the skin at Harry’s neck before he presses a kiss there. Harry’s arms is one of his favorite places to be. They’re home.

“Only you would get turned on by domestic talk, H. Only you.”

“Well,” Harry says, letting his arms trail lower and getting in a quick squeeze to his bum. “And my spouse.” 

Louis grumbles, pulling back far enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Stop distracting me with your quirkiness, Curly. ‘m on a mission here.” 

“I wasn’t aware that I’m so distracting.”

Louis snorts. “You,” he says, pointing a finger at him, “mr. Styles-“

“Tomlinson.”

“Mr. Tomlinson, know  _exactly_ how distracting you can be. Anything else is a filthy lie.” 

“Hm,” Harry agrees. “I suppose.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Suppose my arse.”

“It  _is_  a good arse.”

“ _Menace_ ,” Louis hisses before helping him out of his T-shirt, smiling when Harry obediently raises his arms. “There’s a good lad. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Harry bites his shoulder through the fabric of his t-shirt in retaliation. Louis laughs as he tosses the t-shirt aside. With a small smile, Harry steps out of his boots, shuffling them aside with his sock-clad feet. With a mischievous smile, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, stumbling them both backwards towards the king size bed. He stops when the back of Harry’s knees hit the edge of the bed, causing him to sit down. Harry’s hair has fallen down in front of his eyes. He reaches his hands out, half blindly fumbling for Louis. Louis is hopelessly endeared. Tangling their hands together and leaning down, he brushes the hair away from Harry’s face with his free hand and tucks it behind his ear. Harry looks up at him, his eyes tired but happy. He nuzzles into Louis’ palm, turning his head to press a kiss there. Louis smiles, bringing their lips together in a lingering, chaste kiss before his hands move to the buckle of his belt with practiced ease. 

“Hips up, love,” he murmurs, patting Harry’s hip. Harry obliges easily, raising his hips so Louis can kneel down and pull the black skinny jeans off him. They end up in a pile somewhere on the floor. Right now, Louis couldn’t care less.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, letting his lips brush against the hidden L inked into the inside of his thigh.

“You’re one to talk, Lou,” Harry says, his hands reaching out for his boy.

Louis brings Harry’s hand to his lips and grazes a kiss across his knuckles before gently squeezing it. “Stay here, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

Louis softly pads into the bathroom, fumbling around a bit until he finds what he’s searching for. After he’s filled up a glass of water, he grabs one of the smaller towels and wets it before walking back out to Harry. His  _husband_. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to calling him that.

He doesn’t think he will.

Harry’s halfway lying on his back in the large bed, his feet planted on the floor. When he hears Louis coming back, he sits up slowly, yawning before rubbing his eyes with his hand, seeming a bit disoriented. 

“Here you go, darling,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur as he gives him the glass of water and the NyQuil. Harry’s hand closes around Louis’ wrist appreciatively, his thumb gently brushing across the rope inked into his skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs before swallowing the medicine down with some water.

Louis sits down next to him on the bed. With a soft smile, he gently presses the damp towel to Harry’s forehead, letting it linger there as Harry lets out a contented sigh at the welcomed coolness. He washes the rest of his face before he discards the towel and turns his full attention back to him. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” Harry hums, turning his head to nuzzle his nose into the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “’s always better with you.”

Louis thinks the fondness he has running through his body for his husband is enough to make his heart burst right out of his chest. “Likewise, Hazza. ‘s the best. Always.” 

His lips find Harry’s temple before he runs his hand through his hair, his fingers carding through it. He wraps his arm around Harry’s waist, his fingers ghosting over the fern leaves. Goosebumps have risen on Harry’s skin from being cold, and Louis uses his free hand to rub his thigh.

“You should probably go brush your teeth, love. Otherwise your breath will smell like piss in the morning.”

“No,” Harry mumbles, burying his nose in the crook of Louis’ neck. “’m comfy.” 

“Well then,” Louis shrugs. “I won’t be kissing you with that mouth tomorrow morning then, babe.” 

Against his neck, Harry snorts. His warm breath tickles Louis’ skin. “That argument isn’t any more true now than the first time you tried to use it, Lou. It kind of failed when you still kissed me first thing in the morning.”

Louis huffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Curly.”

He feels rather than sees Harry’s laugh escape him, his lips dragging across Louis’ neck before leaving a warm kiss there.

“C’mon, Haz. Hazza. Babe,” he tries when Harry doesn't want to move, running his fingers through his hair. “The sooner we get up, the sooner we can get you into bed, yeah?”

Harry grumbles before pulling away from his side. Louis leans in to brush a kiss against his cheek before standing up and holding out his hand to him. Harry wraps the entire duvet around his body before standing up, his head and feet the only parts visible of his body. Louis laughs softly, fondly, grabbing hold of the fabric and tugging his duvet-covered boy closer before sneaking his arms beneath the duvet and wrapping them around his waist.

“You Hazza the friendly ghost tonight then, love?”

“More like the cold ghost,” Harry replies, reaching one of his hands and sliding it beneath Louis’ shirt, his cold palm meeting the warm skin of Louis’ stomach. 

“Bloody hell, H. Usually people get cold feet, you know, not cold hands.” 

“As if I’d ever get cold feet with you. Haven’t gotten it the last few times, have I? Won’t be getting it the next few times, either.” 

“The next few times, eh? Who says I’d want to marry you again, Curly?”

Harry beams at him. “You did, the last time we got married. And a countless amount of times before and after that.” 

Louis removes one of his arms from around Harry’s waist and reaches his hand up to ruffle Harry’s curls. “Can’t see why.”

“Heeeey.” 

Louis huffs before pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s pouting lips. “You know I’d marry you every single day if I could. Curls and quirkiness and all.”

“And you,” Harry says, his hand caressing the small of Louis’ back beneath his shirt, “know that I’ll say I do every single time.”

Louis moves to cup Harry’s face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing across his cheeks. He moves closer to him, darting in to leave a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Marry me,” he breathes against his skin, his warm breath ghosting across Harry’s lips.

“Again?” Harry asks, smiling.

“Again and again and again.” 

“I do.” 

“That’s for the ceremony, you bloody sap.”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll marry you again. And again. And then again.”

Louis smiles at his husband. He’s pretty sure that there’d be a picture of him next to the word fond in the dictionary, but. Well. Who’s checking. 

“Now shoo,” Louis says, lowering his hands to give a light slap to Harry’s bum through the thick duvet. “Teeth. Need brushing. Good dental hygiene, yay.”

Harry laughs, getting in a quick kiss to Louis’ jaw before shuffling towards the bathroom, the duvet rustling around him.

Louis rubs the exhaustion out of his eyes before padding into the bathroom after Harry. They brush their teeth together in front of the large mirror, catching each other’s eye in the reflection and smiling stupidly around their toothbrush. It’s such a familiar sight that Louis’ heart clenches. They’d done the exact same thing during the X Factor, used every single opportunity they could as an excuse to be together. Then, their glances in the mirror had been shy at first, a tentativeness that was soon replaced with nothing but fondness, a giddiness over having found each other. There’d been an all-encompassing feeling of love and of being exactly where he was supposed to be that would have been overwhelming to Louis if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was Harry, and he could see his own amazement and love mirrored in his sparkling green eyes.

It’s a bit different, now. Now, the glances are still just as fond as they always have been, but there’s an intimacy to them now that can only come from having been together so long, from knowing everything there is to know about each other. Louis swears sometimes Harry knows him better than he knows himself. He knows down the very last drop of milk how he takes his tea, knows from just looking at him what kind of mood he’s in, knows when Louis needs some space to be by himself and when he just needs to feel Harry  _closeclosecloser_. The love he thought was overwhelming then has only grown over the years, spread through his body and made a home within him, just like Harry’s made himself a home within Louis’ heart, within him, just like he’s made  _Louis_ his home.

Now, Louis meets Harry’s eye in the bathroom mirror once more, and he sees nothing but love staring back at him. In a way, it’s just like it was all those years ago. His heart skips a beat in his chest, beating in a staccato rhythm as Harry smiles at him, his dimple appearing in his left cheek. Louis bends down to rinse his mouth with water before hopping up to sit cross-legged on the counter while he waits for Harry to finish. He hums under his breath, tapping his fingers against his jean-clad thigh while looking at Harry, trying (and failing) to suppress the smile that spreads across his features at the sight of his boy, the duvet draped around him as he finishes brushing his teeth with his neon pink toothbrush. He meets Louis’ gaze in the mirror and grins fondly before sticking his tongue out at him.

Louis shouldn’t be this endeared, but. Well. Everything Harry does is endearing. Sue him.

“Hi,” Harry says once he’s finished, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Hi, love,” Louis replies, his voice barely above a murmur. He smiles softly at him as he uncrosses his legs, loosely encaging Harry and pulling him closer. Sometimes it feels like no matter how close they are, they can still never be close enough. Louis wraps his legs fully around him, his heel digging into the small of his back. Harry’s hand comes down to rest on Louis’ thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of his jeans while he uses his other hand to hold up the duvet.

“Kiss,” Harry murmurs, pouting his lips. 

Louis shakes his head fondly, quiet laughter escaping him. “A kiss, hm?”

“Or a couple. A dozen. ‘m not picky.” 

“You wouldn’t even kiss me good morning today, and now all of sudden you’re demanding them by the  _dozen_? Who died and made you king, Harold?” 

“I didn’t want you to get sick too,” Harry pouts, then hesitates for a moment before he continues. “Well, sick _er_. At this point I can’t remember who got who sick first.” 

“Love,” Louis says, smiling. “I think last night, and this past few week, if we’re really going to nitpick it, kind of made  _that_  particular concern a moot point.”

“Hm,” Harry hums, a smile spreading across his features as he remembers. “Last night was good.”

Louis had taken his time with Harry, bringing him to the edge over and over again and still not letting him come. He’d worked him open with his tongue and with his fingers before Harry had situated himself in Louis’ lap, sinking down onto him. Louis’ fingers had found their way to Harry’s hips, holding on hard enough to leave a smatter of finger-shaped bruises. He’d guided the movement of Harry’s hips, angling the movement so that the roll of Harry’s hips and the hold of his hands had made him hit Harry’s prostate with each torturously slow thrust. Louis had brought Harry close to the edge so many times that when he’d finally let him come, Harry had blanked out for nearly a full minute. When he’d opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on Louis, his smile was soft, his gaze sleepy and so filled with love that Louis hadn’t had a choice but to surge up and pepper kisses all over his face. 

“Just last night?” Louis teases now. “I’m wounded, Harold.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him, gently pinching his thigh. “You know what I mean.”

“Mhm,” Louis agrees before he delicately cups Harry’s face in his hands. “Now, about those kisses…”

Louis brushes his thumb across the skin beneath Harry’s eyes before pressing a kiss to his eyelid. “Did you mean here?” A kiss to his nose. “Here?” His cheek. “Or maybe… here?” His dimple.

“Lou,” Harry murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“Maybe here?” he continues, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Here?” His other cheek. “Perhaps here?” His jaw. “Here?” The corner of his mouth.

“Or here?” he finishes before finally capturing Harry’s lips in a deep, languid kiss. Harry sighs into his mouth, urging himself closer to him as he parts his lips. Louis deepens the kiss, his heel digging in deeper into the small of his back as if he’s trying to mold them into one. When they eventually break apart, Louis only retreats far enough to press small, chaste pecks to his lips, smiling against them the entire time.

“Y’know,” Louis murmurs against his lips, his warm breath ghosting across them, “you really need to stop distracting me like this, Curly. ‘s not fair, with your stupidly pink lips and luscious locks and all.” 

Harry grins. “Luscious locks?”

Louis huffs. “That’s what you took from that?” he asks before lowering his hand to give a quick swat to his bum. “We were supposed to get you into bed, not snog in the bathroom.” 

“Bathroom snogs are good, though.”

Louis’ eyes soften, fondness spreading through his features. “Never said they weren’t, Hazza. I have some very fond memories of snogging this really fit curly-headed lad in a bathroom once or twice.” 

“Really? Because I remember snogging a lad from Doncaster in a bathroom once. He was quite fit too, I must say.”

“Oi,” Louis says. “Only once?”

“Maybe twice. Maybe two dozen, it’s hard to say.”

Louis laughs. “Was he alright, then?”

Harry smiles softly. “The best.” 

Louis returns the smile, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Harry says, moving his hand from Louis’ thigh to his upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re still a bloody sap,” Louis murmurs against his lips. 

“And you still chose to be my husband,” Harry says. “Multiple times.” 

“Temporary insanity.”

“Right,” Harry drawls, grinning the entire time. 

“Could have been your curls, too, y’know. Me slowly being seduced by them,” Louis says, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“Mhm,” Harry hums. “Magic curls. Duly noted.”

“Speaking of,” Louis says, giving Harry’s hair a gentle tug, “D’y know what we should do tomorrow?”

“Snog,” Harry says, darting in to press a few pecks to Louis’ soft lips.

Louis laughs against Harry’s mouth, nodding before pressing his lips to his jaw and briefly nuzzling into his neck. “That can probably be arranged, too, yeah. Not quite what I had in mind though, Harold.” 

“Do tell.”

Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s neck before pulling back. “We should get married,” he says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “’s not a proper Vegas experience until you’ve gotten hitched. Or so I hear.”

Harry beams at him, gently squeezing his arm. “I’m intrigued.” 

“We’ll go to one of those chapels, yeah? Just you, me, the boys, and Lottie and Gems. And I’ll get to make an honest man out of you,” says, adding an “again” with a soft smile after a moment’s pause. 

“Mhm,” Harry breathes. “Niall can be our Elvis.” 

Louis laughs. “He  _would_.”

“I have one complaint though, Tomlinson. ‘We should get married’ kind of lacks quite a bit in the proposal department. I’m not wooed.”

“Harry Tomlinson,” Louis says, capturing Harry’s free hand in both of his, his thumb brushing across his knuckles. “I have spent the past four years of my life loving you, and yet somehow I still fall more and more in love with you every single day. I want to marry you today, tomorrow, and every single day after that. And if you say yes,” he continues, smiling softly because Harry’s said yes a countless amount of times before, but somehow it still feels like the first time all over again, “I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you. I want you by my side through everything, both the good and the downright awful parts, too. You are my anchor,” he says, brushing his fingers delicately across the intricate tattoo on Harry’s wrist, “and you’ll always be my home. I got my first tattoo for you, for us, two years ago, but I’m pretty sure that I’ve known that I want forever with you ever since we first met, to be honest. These,” he continues, pressing down gently on Harry’s anchor tattoo, “are forever, and so are we. I want to ink my skin with your name time and time again, and I want the whole bloody world to know that I’m yours and that I’m the luckiest bloke in the whole world because I get to call you my husband. So, Harry Tomlinson,” he says, his voice soft, tears brimming in his eyes, “will you do me the honor of marrying me, again? And again after that, and again after that, too.”

Harry smiles lovingly at him, a stray tear making its way down his cheek. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you, Lou,” he says, and then continues, “Y’know, I meant it the first time you asked me to marry you, and I’ve meant it every single time you’ve asked me since, and the times I’ve asked you. I’ll mean it every single time in the future, too.”

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand and wraps his arms around his back, pulling him as close as possible and burying his nose in his hair. He smells like apples. Apples, cologne and home.

“It’s ridiculous how much I love you, Harry Styles,” he murmurs.

“Tomlinson,” Harry corrects, wrapping his free arm around him and nuzzling into his neck. “I love you too, Lou. Always.” 

Harry presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw before all of a sudden Louis feels him sliding his arm lower, hooking it under Louis’ bum. 

“Hazza, you are  _not_  lifting me-“ is all he manages to get out before Harry releases his other arm and lifts Louis up off the counter, sliding his arms underneath his thighs. Louis all but manages to wrap his arm around Harry’s neck and grab a firm hold of the duvet, stopping it from sliding down Harry’s body and onto the floor. “You’re supposed to be resting and focusing on getting better, y’know,” he says as Harry walks them towards their bed, “not picking up strange blokes in bathrooms.”

He doesn’t have to see him to know that Harry is smiling so wide his dimple is visible. “Worked out quite nicely for me the first time, though, innit?” 

Louis laughs, loud and bright before pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Yeah, I s’pose I reckon it all turned out quite well.”

Harry walks them over to their bed, setting Louis in front of it. He’s about to pull away when Louis reels him in again for a deep, lingering kiss. 

“Just so you know,” Louis says, darting in to press another kiss to his already kiss-swollen pink lips, “I fancy you quite a bit. Quite a lot, even.”

Harry grins. Louis pokes his dimple. “I’m glad. It’s mutual, y’know.”

Harry walks to his side of the bed and fiddles with his phone while Louis undresses. Louis catches him staring out of the corner of his eye, and he shoots him a mischievous smirk.

“See something you like, Tomlinson?” 

“Maybe,” Harry replies, grinning widely. 

“Oi.”

“Definitely.”

When Louis has finished undressing, he plugs his phone into the charger by his bedside table and crawls into the middle of the bed, lying down flat on his back. Harry continues to fiddle with his phone for a few minutes, and Louis makes a low whine in the back of his throat. Harry has the duvet and Harry is a human blanket, and right now Louis has none of them. It’s a shame. 

“Oi, duvet-hogger, some of us are kind of cold here.”

“Oops,” Harry says, locking his phone and putting it down on the bedside table. “Sorry.”

“Get here, you giant,” Louis says, his tone exasperated but the expression on his face nothing but fond.

Harry smiles at him before crawling onto the bed, splaying himself like a starfish over Louis’ body, draping the thick duvet over both of them.

“Oof,” Louis says, but he doesn’t make any attempt to move. 

On top of him, Harry shrugs. “You said you were cold. Besides,” he continues, nuzzling Louis’ neck. “Cuddles are always good. Yay for cuddles.”

Louis laughs softly before pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. Harry moves around a bit on the bed, situating himself next to Louis pressed as close to him as possible, his head tucked underneath his chin and his cheek pressed against the skin right above his heart. He falls easily into him, even in his sleep, molding himself against Louis’ body, like two pieces effortlessly slotting together to form a whole.

He always does.

Louis wraps his arms around him, his hand splayed across the tattooed leaves on his stomach while he captures Harry’s hand in his free one and interlaces their fingers, giving him a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at Harry, pressing a kiss into his hair as his eyes begin to droop. 

“G’night,” Harry murmurs, tilting his head and leaving a soft, lingering kiss right above his steadily beating heart. “Love you. Lots and lots.” 

“I love you too, babe,” Louis replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “G’night.”

Tomorrow, Louis will let Harry sleep in and wake the boys up early. He and Harry will drag them along to the nearest chapel, and they’ll (not for the first time, and not the last, either) be the only witnesses of the wedding reception. Louis will bribe Paul with the promise of being good for a whole day and get him to agree to go out and buy a cake that he’ll smash in Harry’s face later on, leaning in and licking the excess cream off his face before kissing him, both of them smiling too much into for it to be an actual kiss. Niall will congratulate them on “getting married for the billionth time, ya idiots” and snap pictures with his phone and send them to them. Liam will pull them both in for a hug, and Louis and Harry will grin at each other over the top of Liam’s head before smearing cake in his hair. Niall and Zayn will join in on the group hug, huddling together forming a protective embrace around Louis and Harry, both figuratively and literally. Just like they have for the past four years. When they pull apart, Niall will not so subtly wipe away a few tears with his hand before Zayn’ll smile sadly at them and tell them that it’s time to head back to the hotel. Louis will murmur “just a second” against Harry’s dimple before kissing him, hoping to convey everything he feels for his boy, his  _husband_ , before they’ll break apart and discreetly leave the chapel, hand in hand and just married.

Tomorrow, Louis and Harry will promise themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Louis will promise to always be the compass guiding him home, and Harry will promise to always be his anchor, keeping him steady. Giving him a home. Harry will cry before Louis has finished reciting his vows, and Louis will capture his face in his hands and kiss him before the registrar has even had the chance to say that he may kiss his husband. Louis will murmur “Hey, husband” against Harry’s smiling lips, and Harry will be beaming with his answering “Hi,  _spouse_ ”. 

Just like they’ve done a handful of times before, and just like they will many more times to come in the future. Just like they always will.

Now, Louis lies in their bed with Harry’s body a comforting weight on top of him. He drops a kiss to Harry’s forehead before closing his eyes, letting his steady breathing and the sound of his heartbeat lull him to sleep, the familiar sound just as much home as the boy in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii. If you've made it this far, here, have a cookie. Thank you for reading. Any kind of feedback means the world to me and brighten my day, in case you feel like it. I'm [styleztomlinson](http://styleztomlinson.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, too, if you want to stop by and say hi. I'm always all for making new friends. :)


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